


Breaks Never Caught Part I

by weavetatter



Series: Breaks Never Caught [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Brotherhood, Friendship, Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weavetatter/pseuds/weavetatter





	

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only play in the universe. WWE owns all.

Also, I don't write the real people. If I'm writing about Roman, it's about Roman, not Joe Anoa'i.

 

 

Roman wasn't feeling well. Truthfully, he hadn't been feeling well for days, and hadn't said anything to Dean about it. It wasn't like there was much his younger brother could do. Their schedules were hectic, and they seemed to operate somewhere between tired and completely exhausted at all times. Well, Roman did, anyway. Dean always seemed to have a never-ending well of energy. Roman didn't, and was feeling the effects of the lack of downtime. The timing couldn't be worse for him to get sick: Seth had just returned to the WWE. Seth Rollins, the architect of betrayal.

Once upon a time, Roman had counted Seth as his youngest brother. Roman had been the oldest of the three Shield members, and was very protective of both Seth and Dean Ambrose.

Neither he nor Dean had expected the knife in the back. They hadn't expected Seth, so vehemently against them and so vocal about it, to join the Authority. They hadn't had the faintest clue of Seth's jealousy. And they most certainly hadn't expected the cowardly attack from behind.

Worse than the physical attack, however, was the knowledge of how completely they had been duped by someone they had loved and trusted.

No, being sick right now was not only inconvenient, it was not an option. Period. He wanted--no, he _needed_ \--to get his hands on Seth. Maybe once he'd pounded on his former brother's face for a little while, he could take a sick day or two. Until then, he'd just keep going.

Like always.

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

Dean could see that Roman wasn't feeling well, but the signs of it right now were subtle. You had to know Roman well to recognize them. He did. So did the Uso twins, of course, since they were his cousins.

Unfortunately, Seth Rollins knew him that well, too.

Even now, more than two years after the fact, Dean still couldn't believe the depth of the mistake they had made in trusting that weasel. What a clusterfuck. They had been a family, or so he and Roman had thought. Brothers. Roman, the oldest of them, their leader, always protective of both his younger brothers, but particularly Seth, the youngest of the trio.

Only to have that youngest turn on them completely. Seth had waited until their backs were turned, and viciously attacked Roman with a steel chair from behind. Roman had dropped like a rock, all but unconscious, before Dean's stunned eyes. And then Seth had turned the chair on Dean himself.

The audience had been shocked into an unbelievable uproar, while Triple H stood on the ramp with his trusty sledgehammer, grinning like the Cheshire cat beside Randy-fucking-Orton. Rollins had handed the second steel chair to the so-called Apex Predator, and Orton had enjoyed his time applying it to Roman, destroying him systematically.

Dean was the middle brother, the one called crazy, but his fury had been like a candle beside the supernova of his older brother's. Many times in their promos, the Shield had alluded to Roman's hair-trigger temper, and both Dean and Seth had seen Roman lose his temper before, but only Dean had seen this.

Roman's fury wasn't hot in the way that Dean's was. He didn't yell and storm around. No, Roman went ice-cold and absolutely ruthless, going through obstacles in his path with calculated, methodical precision, and that was how he'd gone through the backstage area hunting for Seth. He never said a word, just went through everyone who got in his way until Dean and the Usos managed to stop him. To say he had snapped was an understatement, and it scared Dean badly enough that the younger man had essentially held his older brother hostage at the hotel until he regained control of his rage. It had taken nearly a week. Dean didn't ever want to see Roman's temper slip its leash that badly again. So far, he'd been lucky.

But Seth was spinning in their orbit again. More precisely, he was spinning in Roman's orbit, and Dean couldn't help but to be worried. The WWE had recently split Raw and Smackdown, drafting the roster to either one brand or the other. Dean, and Roman's cousins, the Usos, had been drafted to Smackdown Live, while Roman had gone to Raw, together with Rollins. Dean didn't know for certain that it had been done on purpose, but Roman had been left with no friends on Raw, cut adrift in a sea of enemies. As a result, Roman was wound up tight, very stressed, and with him now getting sick, it was not a good combination.

Dean didn't have any ideas on how to help his big brother this time. They weren't even sure yet if the two shows were going to be taped in the same cities. If they were, Dean and Roman would still have proximity going for them. If not, Roman would be entirely alone...with an enemy that knew him very, very well.

As he drove, Dean glanced over at the Big Dog. Roman had fallen asleep with his head against the car window. His long black hair lay loose along his shoulders, one of the first signs that something was wrong. When not in the ring, Roman tended to tie his hair back, unless he had a really bad headache, usually the result of a near concussion.

He also didn't sleep on road trips when it was just the two of them. They kept each other awake. The fact that he was asleep now also told Dean something was wrong.

Most telling, Roman had become progressively quieter and moodier over the last few days. It had become entirely too easy to set off his temper, and Rome just wasn't like that, especially not with Dean.

On a hunch, Dean reached over to lay a hand against his brother's forehead. Not waking, Roman irritably slapped his hand away, but the brief touch had been enough to feel the fever Roman was running. This was really not good. Roman wasn't _getting_ sick, he was _already_ sick. For how long? And why hadn't he said anything about it?

At least they'd had sense enough to book their own hotel, rather than allowing the WWE brass to do it. Neither of them wanted to be that accessible.

One of Roman's catchphrases was "one versus all", and it was definitely shaping up to be exactly that. Roman was not well-liked in the locker room. Dean had never understood why; as long as you didn't go out of your way to provoke him, Roman was one of the nicest guys on the roster. The only explanation that made any sense to Dean was jealousy. Roman won more than he lost, which wasn't something that could be said even by many who were veterans of the business. And there were those who assumed that his cocky, arrogant, in-ring persona was the real one, without ever making the effort to get to know him. Of course, all of the hate could quite possibly be the fault of one Seth Rollins, too.

Dean's phone notified him that he had a message and, glancing down at it, his heart sank. There would be no proximity in the foreseeable future. Raw was going to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Smackdown was going to Buffalo, New York.

Roman began to cough in his sleep, stirring restlessly, but not waking. Dean stepped down on the accelerator, determined to get his brother to the hotel and into a bed, while his mind spun, trying to figure out how to avoid Roman's being completely stripped of all friends and allies.

 

*RR*RR*RR*RR*RR*

 

The hotel came into view only fifteen minutes later, to Dean's relief. Once Roman had started coughing, it hadn't stopped, and it also hadn't awakened him, which worried his younger brother.

Dean picked up their keycards from an oblivious desk jockey and got his older brother up to their room. Roman wasn't much more than half-awake, and was asleep again as soon as he was down. Dean called the concierge to request cough medicine, cold pills, ibuprofen, and a thermometer. The items were delivered less than twenty minutes later, and Dean took a deep breath, bracing himself to wake Roman again, because it was unlikely that his brother was going to be thrilled. But he was coughing again, and it didn't sound good. Gently, Dean shook him. "Rome."

Roman woke slowly, and surprised Dean by not automatically punching him, although he was definitely irritated. " _What?_ "

"Chill out, Big Dog--I've got meds for you. You've been coughing a lot, and you're running a fever."

"Terrific," Roman muttered. "Any more bad news you wanna share?"

He'd meant it to be sarcastic, then saw Dean fidgeting and looking away. That was never a good sign. "What else, Dean?"

"Um. Well..."

" _What else?_ "

Dean sighed. "Raw and Smackdown are in two different cities, being taped a day apart."

"Yeah, so what's new? They've always--"

"In two different states."

Roman fell silent, causing Dean to squirm again. "Raw's in Pittsburgh. Smackdown's the next night in Buffalo."

Roman spoke quietly, his voice raspy from coughing. "How soon do you need to take off?"

"I'm not."

Roman's head snapped around, and he pinned his brother with a look. "Dean."

"We can still at least ride together, man! Leave here tomorrow after Raw, get to Buffalo and have a few hours to sleep."

"Dean."

"Roman. I'm not ditching you here, sick, with no friends or family by your side. I'm not doing it. Period, man, so don't ask."

Roman sighed. He wasn't alone, exactly. There were a couple of people on the roster he could always count on for help, though he wouldn't say they were best friends, and he wouldn't have been comfortable going to them for help with something like this. Add in Dean's obstinacy, and he sighed again. "All right."

"I'll even drive so you can get some rest, and--what?"

Roman had to smile at his younger brother's double-take. "I said all right. We'll do it your way, at least this time. Play it by ear after that."

Dean grinned, having gotten his way, and brought the medicines to him. "I had them bring a bunch of cold stuff, and a thermometer. You felt pretty warm."

Roman downed the medications without complaint, in the hope that they'd keep him going through the following night's show.

"Thermometer," Dean reminded him.

He already had a good idea of his temperature and had hoped that Dean had forgotten the damn thermometer, but Dean already knew he had a fever and wasn't about to let it go. Neither of them were surprised when it read 103.6.

Dean gave him a level look. "Rome, I know how much you want Rollins. I want him, too. But I don't think it's a good idea for you to be in the ring tomorrow."

Roman sighed, coughing roughly. "Dean, even if I agree, you think Stephanie or Hunter is gonna let me off the hook? I call in sick, they're gonna tell me I have to come in anyway, and they'll have ammunition against me just in knowing I'm sick. There's no scenario where I win this. Not this time. Maybe I have a chance if I let Seth get the easy win, make it look like I'm hurt..."

"Oh, hell no, not that!" Dean exclaimed. "He's insufferable enough as it is!"

"You got a better idea?" Roman asked wearily.

"Actually, yeah. Dr. Amann." Dean grinned. "If he pulls you off the active roster, there's nothing Steph or Trips can do. Amann's the doctor; he's got final say in that area."

Roman rubbed a hand over tired eyes. He knew Dean was right, knew he had no business stepping into the ring tomorrow night. He felt worse every minute, and all he wanted was to lie down and die in peace. If he felt this bad now, how much worse would it be tomorrow night? But, dammit, he really wanted to break Rollins in half. Who knew when--or if--the opportunity would come again?

Dean watched the thoughts flicker across his older brother's face, and knew Roman's resolve was weakening. Rollins wasn't worth the misery of going in when Roman was this sick. Dean was fairly sure Amann would pull the Big Dog from the roster. He'd never seen his brother taken down this hard or this fast by illness before, and Dean's money was on bronchitis or pneumonia.

"I don't like seeing you like this, Rome," he said seriously. "I'm no doc, but I think you're really sick."

Coughing deep in his chest, hard enough to make Dean wince, Roman nodded, giving in to his little brother's logic and his body's own signals. Seth Rollins would have to wait.


End file.
